


just stop your crying (it's a sign of the times)

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Asthma, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles: Live On Tour, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, Louis Tomlinson is Protective of Harry Styles, M/M, author's first fic, please treat this fic with kindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's the final show of Harry Styles: Live on Tour, and Harry isn't handling it very well.Cue protective husbands and a healthy dose of angst and fluff.a.k.a I watched that video of Harry singing Kiwi three times in a row and decided to cause some pain for myself and anyone who'd like to join me in my land of suffering :))))
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 155





	just stop your crying (it's a sign of the times)

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh, my first fic!!!  
> this idea was born about three hours ago while re-watching old tour videos, and i decided to write it out because i'm in between summer classes and fall semester and i don't have anything else to do. i literally wrote this is in one sitting so i can't guarantee that it's perfect, but i tried my best. let me know what you think of it in the comments, or tell me if you have any requests/suggestions for more!

LA Night Two: The Forum, 14 July 2018

Tour is undeniably exhausting. For weeks now, he’s been whining to anyone on his team who will listen about how desperately he wants a break. Not that Harry doesn’t love his job - he does, he really does, almost more than anything in the world. It’s just that the only thing better than performing for a crowd of thousands is being wrapped in his husband’s arms, curled up in a familiar bed that always has too much dog hair in it because Louis is the world’s biggest pushover when it comes to training Clifford.

It’s been almost a month since Harry last saw his husband. Louis has offered to join him on tour several times, usually whenever Harry has a few shots too many after a show and ends up crying on the phone because he can’t stand the distance between himself and his Lou. Even over the phone, from thousands of miles away and struggling to deal with time-zone bullshit, Louis always knows exactly how to handle a drunk and tearful Harry. On those nights, Harry falls asleep curled around his phone like he needs to protect it at all costs, Louis’ voice floating through the speaker for however long it takes to get Harry to sleep.

So it’s fair to say that the tour has been exhausting for the both of them. Still, as the curtain rises on the last concert, Harry finds himself suddenly frantic, not ready for it to end.  
The final show.  
It seems so ominous. Even after all these years of performing, he can’t help but feel like every performance will be his peak. What if the next album is a total flop, and he never tours again?

Jet-black panic tinges all his thoughts. By the halfway point of the show, Harry finds that he’s worked himself into a bit of a frenzy. As he turns away from the audience to chug another bottle of water and wipe the sweat from his forehead, he sees Mitch flash him a “you okay?” kind of look. Harry pretends not to notice it, turning back to the crowd to hype them up for “Medicine.”

It only devolves as the night goes on. To an outsider, he looks like he’s having the time of his life, and on some level he definitely is. But there’s also a part of him that is heading straight for a meltdown, and there’s nothing he can really do about it. He curses the fact that Lou isn’t with him tonight. He was planning on coming to support Harry for his final show of the tour, but apparently his management scheduled meetings to discuss the new album this week. Harry reassures himself that he’ll see Louis soon enough anyway. He’ll be waiting at home when Harry gets back to London. The flight’s not that long anyway, and he’ll probably sleep through most of it after a show this intense. It’s fine.

It’s definitely not fine.

Harry decides to sing “Kiwi” three times in a row, because what does he have to lose, really? It’s the last night of the tour, and even if his voice is shot to hell for the next week it’s not like it will really matter. What he doesn’t consider, however, is how physically demanding the number is. By the end of the third rendition he’s basically just lying on the stage, completely out of breath and shaking like a leaf. He stands up to wave to the crowd at the end, gasping for air, but it seems like he just can’t get enough. His chest is still heaving as he pulls his bandmates in for a hug, and that’s when it hits him - _he can’t breathe_. Like really, really can't breathe.

Sarah, like the mother she is, seems to notice immediately that something is wrong. Before he can even finish thanking all the fans, she’s pulling him backstage. If he were feeling better he might resist, but at this point all he can really do is stumble along beside her. Harry can tell she’s trying to get him back to his dressing room, but halfway down the hall his legs abandon the plan, and he ends up slumped against the wall. Sarah lets out a shriek as she feels him go limp, and suddenly all Harry’s bandmates are swarming around him. He can vaguely hear them asking what’s wrong, trying to figure out why he’s suddenly collapsed, but it feels like his head is too deep underwater to respond. All he can focus on is the sharp pain building in his chest as his lungs frantically attempt to pull in air.

Harry’s hands grope at his chest instinctively, trying to convey his desperate situation. He can’t comprehend any of what’s going on around him, has no idea if help is coming or if he’s just going to die on the hallway floor like a fish out of water. His vision is starting to blur around the edges and he’s honestly looking forward to the peaceful promise of unconsciousness when he feels a small, warm hand against his chest and hears a voice that he recognizes instantly.

“It’s alright, darling, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Harry blinks furiously and watches as Louis’ face slowly becomes clearer before him. If he were more lucid he might question what Louis is even doing here, why he isn’t in London with his team right now. Instead Harry clings to him with all his remaining strength as Louis holds an inhaler up to his lips and instructs him to breathe in slowly. After a few puffs, Harry feels something loosen in his chest, and he slumps against Louis in relief as oxygen begins to flow normally through his airways. He still isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but he feels Louis’ hand rubbing steady circles on his back, and he relaxes into it gratefully as exhaustion hits him.

**************************************

The first thing Harry notices when he wakes up is that the hotel bed is warmer than usual. It’s quite pleasant, and he rolls over with every intention of burrowing deeper under the covers, but doing so puts pressure on his chest and sends him into a coughing fit. Louis is up in a flash, untangling himself from the covers and scrambling for Harry’s inhaler on the bedside table.

“Relax, Haz, just breathe for me,” he soothes. He helps Harry to sit up and pulls him between his open legs so they’re sitting back to chest, holding the inhaler up for Harry to take another puff as he does so. After a minute, Harry’s breathing returns to normal again, and Louis chuckles softly as he feels Harry lean heavily on him. “You really wore yourself out, didn’t you love?” he asks, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and winding his fingers into thick, dark curls. Harry just nods, still a little out of it. They lie like that for a few minutes, until Louis speaks up softly. “Why did you push yourself like that on stage, love? We’ve talked about this before, you’ve gotta know your limits Haz.” At Louis’ words, something snaps in Harry, the events of the evening rushing to the front of his mind. He whimpers, turning his head into Louis’ neck and curling himself up even tighter in Louis’ arms.

“‘M sorry, Lou,” he mumbles into the lining of Louis’ hoodie. “Wasn’t thinking. I just - just didn’t want it to end.” Despite his best efforts to keep it together, the tears start rolling down Harry’s cheeks once more.

“Shh,” Louis whispers to him, turning Harry’s head towards him to swipe the tears from under his eyes with his sweater paws. “No need to work yourself up again, Haz. I’m not mad at you, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Harry nods shakily. “I’m just - every time I finish a tour I’m afraid it’s gonna be the last. Like, maybe people are just going to forget about me once I leave the stage,” he admits in a small voice.

Louis makes a noise of disbelief. “You know that’s not true darling. You have so many loyal fans, and I know they can’t wait for the next album.” Harry sniffles and tucks himself tighter into Louis’ arms. “I’m serious, Haz,” Louis insists. “And even without your fans, you know who you’ll always have? Me.”

“God, you’re so cheesy Lou,” Harry giggles, swiping at his eyes and finally giving Louis a smile.

“Anything for you, princess,” Louis swears, pressing a kiss to Harry’s curls.

Harry beams at him, and in that moment, he knows that everything is going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you couldn't tell, i'm a massive sucker for louis calling harry stupid pet names.  
> hope y'all liked it, let me know! :)


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